Indy’s Last Ride
Some of you may remember that the name of the car I have been driving is Indy.
I started driving her last September, though she wasn’t actually mine. Through a series of fortunate events (many of which I still can’t believe unfolded as they did), she landed in my lap and we’ve been together ever since. She’s been keeping me humble and I have enjoyed that greatly; you can read more about that here. Anyways.
I said goodbye to Indy yesterday.
She had to get towed for the second time in a few months, again when I was alone and not close to home. The shop mechanic (who was extremely, extremely kind) said that once he fixed it, she’d be safe to drive. Everyone else told me how long Hondas last and that she had many more miles to go. But everything in my body and intuition said no, that it was time to let her go.
So I did.
I didn’t plan on crying. But when I picked her up from the repair shop, I found myself sobbing through the entire Last Ride home with just me and her. I had so much gratitude for the countless hours I’ve spent with her. She represented my whole last year of refinding and rebuilding myself after having spent quite some time being very lost. We went on MANY adventures. And in those times, with the windows down and the music up, I rediscovered a lot about who am and who I want to be.
She went to a good home; I have so much hope that they enjoy driving her as much as I did.
So as of this moment, I’m vehicle-less. And I’m trusting that the Universe will work in my favor to change that in a way that aligns me perfectly with whatever I drive next. And yes, she’ll have a name too;)
It’s easy to share the story after the outcome has already happened. It’s a lot harder to share the story when you’re still in the unknown, when you can’t see how it all turns out, because you’re still walking blindfolded with your arms out in front of you.
Also, I say I’m trusting the Universe like it’s easy. Sometimes it is, but sometimes I find logic and reason get in my way of trusting and I have to remind myself to stop for a second. And practice getting back into letting go. I’m really not a big fan of logic or reason; nothing amazing ever happens to me when I’m being logical or reasonable. But when I get illogical and unrealistically unreasonable, magic always unfolds, the Universe always delivers, and I end up having the adventures of a lifetime.
With zero logic and a whole lot of trust,